


A Trip To Europe

by PickledDeath



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Amnesia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sexual Assault, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledDeath/pseuds/PickledDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil Baldwin from Albuquerque New Mexico goes backpacking across Europe. Somewhere in the Swiss Alps he gets lost and is found as a Cecil Baldwin ten years older and from a town called Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip To Europe

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this while I was listening to episode 21, A Memory of Europe. I have no idea if this is still canon compliant in any way, but I suspect it is.

The last thing Cecil remembered before waking up on the side of the road was nodding off on a bus toward Grisons. He had spent days hiking around the northern Alps and the beautiful uncultivated land in the Reuss Valley. His feet ached and his back had been protesting loudly, so rather than continuing his journey through Switzerland on foot Cecil had used the last deposit his parents had sent him to pay for a bus ticket to Chur, the capital of Grisons.

 

Cecil could remember nodding off to the crackling sound of his Walkman radio chattering in his ear. He could remember the feeling of condensation on the bus window clinging to his forehead as he let his head lull against it. He could even remember the rumble of the bus under his feet as it roared down the relatively empty midnight highway.

 

After that, the young Cecil Palmer remembered nothing else beyond being on the edge of sleep and then suddenly finding himself standing in the middle of a weather beaten dirt road with his backpack slung across his shoulders and a light drizzle coming from the dark night sky.

 

Cecil adjusted his backpack where it sat between his shoulders. His back had been bothering him terribly just a few hours ago, but at that moment he felt well rested and resilient. His feet too were feeling fine and were no longer swollen and blistered.

 

Cecil Palmer turned in a circle to look at his surroundings. All around him grassy hills rose and fell sharply and he recognized the foothills of the Alps showing off proudly under the struggling light from the night sky. Behind Cecil the road disappeared behind a sharp bend. Everything was silent around him with the exception of some strange off key tones that he could hear faintly between the sounds of rain gently pattering against the ground.

 

Cecil told himself that he should be panicking. He had just lost time which he believed was a pretty serious thing. What if he had somehow been hit in the head and had amnesia? What if he had been through something traumatic and was blocking it out? All of the possible explanations seemed rather hideous. He hoped that it was just something as simple as sleepwalking.

 

Just as Cecil decided that yes he should definitely start panicking now, a lone figure stepped out from behind the bend in the road. The figure was tall and lean with ink black hair that sharply contrasted Cecil's pale blond. As he approached Cecil started to make out distinguishing features like a long sharp nose and baggy ripped clothing. He also noticed a dark green backpack the man was carrying on his back. And, though his clothing was a little torn and bedraggled they looked like the sort of things a college kid would wear.

 

"Yo!" the other boy said, raising a hand and smiling at Cecil. His accent was thick enough that Cecil heard it even through his one syllable greeting, but Cecil wasn't sure what country he was from.

 

"Hello!" Cecil called back clutching the straps of his backpack and staggering toward the other man gratefully. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know where I am!" Cecil said shakily as stumbled up.

 

"Why, you're in Switz of course," the mysterious man replied.

 

"Switz," Cecil replied, rolling the word in his mouth. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the town," he said uncertainly.

 

"Not the town. The country of Switz," the man corrected him.

 

"Oh!" Cecil said. He blushed. Was his command of the European map so weak? He thought he had a good grasp of the geography of the area he was in. But, perhaps he was quite far from where he last remembered. Perhaps he had been tired and got on the wrong bus? Bought the wrong ticket?

 

"Is it very far from here to Chur?" Cecil asked uncertainly.

 

The strange man grinned at Cecil. His teeth gave the impression of being very sharp and dangerous, but when Cecil looked closer they were the same blunt rectangles of enamel he would have expected to find in his own mouth.

 

"I'm afraid we are very far from Chur," the man replied smoothly. "I'm Böögg, by the way," the man said, offering his hand.

 

Cecil started at his own bad manners. "Ah! I apologize. I'm Cecil. Cecil Palmer," Cecil introduced himself with a bashful smile. "I'm an American college student from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I must have gotten lost," Cecil went on to explain, grasping Böögg's hand in his own and giving it a warm squeeze.

 

Cecil could have sworn that he felt long sharp nails graze the back of his hand, but when he glanced down at Böögg's hand the fingernails were short and a little dirty and nothing was grazing the back of his hand.

 

"If you'd like to accompany me, the nearest hostel should be down the road a little bit," Böögg offered.

 

"Ah, sure! That sounds great," Cecil responded distracted. Retrieving his hand from Böögg's, Cecil glanced behind Böögg's shoulder nervously. He was starting to see little flickers of light beyond the turn of the road.

 

Böögg noticed where Cecil was looking and took Cecil by the upper arm, gently steering him in the opposite direction. "You don't want to go that way," Böögg said to Cecil in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

 

"Why not?" Cecil asked while allowing himself to be pulled along behind Böögg.

 

"Bad traffic accident that way. Swarming with the polizei," Böögg explained with a wry expression.

 

Cecil didn't understand, but didn't want to argue with the probably more informed traveller. A shiver ran down Cecil's back and he rubbed the back of his neck to try and shake it off. The words traffic accident seemed to be bouncing back and forth on the inside of his head, but whatever line of thought they were trying to trigger kept being drowned out by the strange barely there trill of off key notes singing between the sounds of the rain.

 

The road that Cecil and Böögg were on was rutted as if worried at by a myriad of tires and wheels over the course of years. Big puddles riddled the road and Cecil played a game of hopscotch jumping between the little islands of grass that sat between the puddles. Böögg didn't seem bothered by the rain or the water and walked through the rain and puddles without much regard for his wet pant legs or soaked hiking boots.

 

It seemed like they walked and walked for hours, but the rain never seemed to let up and the sky never seemed to become any lighter. Cecil began to grow tired but his feet didn't hurt, he didn't feel any chill from the rain, and his back didn't strain with the weight of his pack.

 

After climbing steadily up a steep hill for almost half an hour Böögg stepped off the road to follow a small walking path until he reached a plywood shack sitting sideways on a hill side.

 

"This is it!" he declared as he walked toward the shack and shimmied open the door which was little more than some boards nailed together in a rectangle and leaned against the door jamb.

 

"This is the hostel...?" Cecil asked doubtfully.

 

"Yes! It's a bit small, but it's cosy," Böögg replied optimistically.

 

Cecil shrugged his shoulders out of his pack and thought to himself, 'Cultural diversity sure is an interesting thing.'

 

Hesitantly Cecil followed Böögg into the shack which was apparently a hostel. There were two shelves that Cecil identified as beds when Böögg shook out the padding over one of the shelves and started to spread a blanket from his backpack over it. Cecil reached up to set his backpack on the top bunk when Böögg gestured at him not too.

 

"It's awfully cold, don't you think? We could stay warmer by sharing a bunk," he suggested as he pulled his feet out of his hiking boots and whipped off his wet socks.

 

"Ah, but," Cecil hesitated. He didn't know Böögg at all. And, even though he knew he should keep an open mind, the idea of sharing a bed with a man he just met was daunting. Especially a man whom he only knew by his first name.

 

Böögg bared his teeth in wide smile up at Cecil and Cecil had to restrain himself from backing away from the other man. Though his rational mind kept telling him that Böögg's teeth were normal (if a little crooked), he kept thinking his teeth were long and sharp. It was almost like seeing double or looking at something through 3D glasses.

 

"Come now, Cecil. We are both men! We have nothing to hide from one another," Böögg reassured him.

 

Cecil shuffled nervously from foot to foot. He didn't really want to sleep in the same bed as Böögg, but he was also in the middle of some country he had never heard of and possibly hours from the nearest town. That being the case, Cecil also didn't want to alienate the only friend he had in the perceivable world.

 

Smiling sheepishly, Cecil shrugged his shoulders out of his damp jacket and sat down beside Böögg to pull off his shoes. Böögg showed him another toothy smile that put Cecil on edge and yanked his stretched out bedraggled shirt over his head. Cecil glanced at Böögg out of the corner of his eye and took note of the strange staggered runes drawn in shaky black lines all over Böögg's chest and upper arms.

 

"I like your tattoos," Cecil said conversationally, staring at a particular one that he was having a hard time reading. Every time he tried to focus his gaze on it his eyes just seemed to slide off. He blamed it on Böögg's fidgeting.

 

"Thanks!" Böögg said, grinning with his sharp/blunt teeth at Cecil before standing up to shuck off his pants and underwear in one fell swoop.

 

Cecil swallowed a gasp a bare second before it escaped his mouth and threw a hand up over his steadily heating face.

 

Böögg turned to stand (while listing slightly to the left) proudly and nakedly in front of Cecil. He tilted his head slightly to the right with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as if considering a strange brand of bread he had never seen before.

 

"D-do you normally sleep in the nude?" Cecil stuttered, struggling to keep his eyes above Böögg's shoulders and failing.

 

"Of course! I believe everyone in this region does," Böögg said nonchalantly. "Is it not so in your home country?"

 

"Ah, no. Most decidedly not," Cecil replied.

 

"Well, you know what they say," Böögg said, leaning in with a smile, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

 

Cecil felt the blood that had slowly been seeping back to his vital organs jump back into his cheeks. But, he wasn't sure what he could say in return. After all, he knew he should respect cultural differences and didn't want to give Americans a bad name in what was, apparently, the country of Switz.

 

Laughing nervously, Cecil struggled out of his own slightly damp shirt and then shimmied out of his jeans. He modestly pulled his knees up after he got his pants off and then pulled Böögg's scratchy blanket up over his waist. Böögg's dark dark eyes seemed to follow each of Cecil's modest movements with heat, but Cecil was too busy trying to keep his eyes off of Böögg all together to notice.

 

The little cot was on such an incline that Cecil had to cling to the edge of the cot where it was pushed against the wall to stop from rolling off. Böögg shuffled into the small bed behind Cecil and settled on his back staring at the underside of the cot above them. Cecil clung desperately to the side of the cot and tried his best not to despair. He doubted he would be able to get any sleep while trying to hold onto the bed. But, he took solace in the thought that dawn was long overdue and should be an excuse to wake up shortly.

 

The two men laid side by side on the tiny bed for an indeterminate amount of time while the rain pattered against the tin roof and soft off key tones hung in the air around them. Despite his tensed position, Cecil was beginning to feel sleep steal across him when something slightly cool and wet swept across the knuckles clutching the bed.

 

Cecil yelped and fell backward into Böögg who was only able to stop them from tumbling out of the bed by clutching Cecil around the waist and bracing one foot on the ground.

 

"Something just touched my hand!" Cecil yelped.

 

"A snake?" Böögg asked, leaning forward to look at the space between the wall and the bed and consequently pushing Cecil closer to it.

 

"I don't know. It was wet and slimy," Cecil said worriedly, pressing himself back into Böögg's chest to try and get away from where the wet slimy something had touched him.

 

"Hm. I don't see anything," Böögg said doubtfully as he leaned over Cecil in favor or looking into the dark space between the cot and wall.

 

Just as Böögg did so Cecil felt a familiar cold wet dexterous something slide over the underside of his foot.

 

Cecil yelled again even louder and scrambled toward the head of the bed. Consequently, he nearly climbed on top of Böögg in his attempt to get away from the thing that had touched his leg. As he scrambled, Cecil felt something slightly wet and suspiciously similar press against his thigh.

 

"Ah! We're surrounded by snakes!" Cecil screeched, jumping away from Böö and pressing himself against the wall.

 

"Oh, no, no, darling. My apologies. That was me," Böögg said in what sounded like a sheepish voice from somewhere in the darkness of the plywood shack.

 

"What?" Cecil asked in a small voice.

 

"You're very cute," Böögg said in an affectionate voice that sounded very close to Cecil. "And, I must admit that the feeling of you cowering against me was very attractive."

 

"I'm afraid," Cecil struggled for words "I don't know how to respond to that," he finished.

 

"Well then let me ask you this," Böögg said and this time Cecil could feel the other's man humid breath brush against his brow. Böögg's breath smelled wet like old closed up basements and loamy forest floors. "Would you like to fool around a little?"

 

Cecil's brow pulled together in a frown and he tried to press himself even further into the rough plywood wall. "No, thank you," Cecil opened his mouth to say. However, he instead heard himself say, "Yes, please."

 

"Ah, good!" Böögg exclaimed.

 

Cecil squawked and put a hand up to his mouth. "N-no, I meant to say -" no thank you "yes, please fuck me."

 

Cecil's aghast screech at his own rebellious mouth was covered by Böögg's boisterous pleased laugh.

 

"Quite eager, aren't you?" he laughed against Cecil's mouth.

 

Cecil froze as Böögg's mouth pressed against his, his chest plastered itself against his, and hands began roving over Cecil's thighs.

 

"Wait! What about the snakes?" Cecil asked desperately, hoping to distract Böögg long enough to figure out a way to politely decline without saying no, since he was apparently incapable of that.

 

"Don't worry," Böögg rasped against his throat while he bit and mouthed at Cecil's skin. Böögg pressed his knees forward trying to press Cecil's legs up over his. "There are no poisonous snakes in this region."

 

"But, I don't want to get bitten," Cecil gasped, as Böögg finally succeeded in prying Cecil away from the wall with two firm handfuls of his ass.

 

"It will be alright, darling," Böögg grunted into Cecil's collar bone. "A little pain just helps the pleasure along," he said darkly, ghosting his hands up Cecil's sides to viciously pinch at his nipples to punctuate his point.

 

Cecil bit back on a sob and felt his panic crest. This was far beyond trying to be culturally accepting, way beyond a casual misunderstanding. Clenching his teeth, Cecil mustered all of will power and yelled "No!" pushing Böögg roughly away from him.

 

Böögg fell backward off the bed, but was able to grab a handful of Cecil's hair and pull him down with him. What followed was a vicious rolling struggle that spilled out of the makeshift door and down the hill. The two of them rolled, and bit, and punched, and kicked, and pulled, and tossed each other until they crashed into a large thorn bush covering the foot of the hill.

 

Cecil landed on his back at the bottom of the hill. His lip was split and he was pretty sure he had been knocked in the head pretty hard. He could feel long vicious thorns digging relentlessly into his back and his body ached where he had been kicked and hit.

 

Böögg was straddling Cecil's hips and staring down at him, but he didn't look like Böögg anymore. His black hair had grown long and dirty with dried leaves and thorns wound through his knotted hair. His teeth were now long and sharp no matter how long Cecil looked at them and his dark eyes made no pretence of pupils or irises. The fingernails on his hands and the toenails on his feet were long and pointed like claws. They and his teeth were varying colors of white, yellow, and pinkish red.

 

With a long fingered hand, the man who may or may not have been Böögg reached out to snap the stem of one of the many strikingly blue flowers that were blooming all around them amongst the thorns. The rain continued to come down in a gentle drizzle all around them, dewing their naked damaged skin and making the full blooms nod their heads in tandem with the ghostly tones all around them.

 

Cecil held his breath as the Not-Böögg tucked the blue flower behind his ear. The rain and discordant notes in the air seemed deafening.

 

"You're very pretty, Cecil," the wild creature shaped like a man on Cecil's hips said. "I'm going to gobble you up now. You can scream if you want too. In fact, please do," the man said, stroking his long dirty nails down Cecil's cheek.

 

All around Cecil black, wet, writhing appendages began to separate themselves from the shadows. They wrapped around Cecil's arms and legs where they had tangled in the thorns. They swarmed over his chest and held fast like steel bands. They even began to rise high in the sky behind Böögg to block out the faint light of the cloudy night sky. The light that was so weak before was eventually blotted out and everything went black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cecil woke up laughing in a bed of thorns and vibrant blue flowers. The rain had finally let up and an unfamiliar night sky was laid out above him. Somehow, Cecil knew that it was and always would be the middle of the night in Switz. Cecil was glad of it. He thought it rather romantic that the void laid ever always above them circling endlessly behind the pin prick lights of faraway stars.

 

Sitting up, Cecil was surprised to find himself nude and rather beat up.

 

"Oh, dear," he breathed, looking down at his lividly bruised and scratched chest, arms, and legs. "What in the world happened?" he asked himself.

 

"We fell down the hill," a heavily accented voice to his right said.

 

Looking up, Cecil noticed that there was a tall emaciated man standing above him to his right. He was also bruised and scratched and nude. He had long black hair that was knotted with all manner of debris. When he opened his mouth his teeth were long, sharp, and equally dirty. His fingernails were also filed to a point and dirty from being put to use gouging and scratching at dirt and flesh alike.

 

"Oh! Who are you?" Cecil asked curiously.

 

"I'm your traveling partner. Don't you remember?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

 

"No, I suppose not," Cecil said in surprise at himself.

 

"Hm. Interesting," Cecil's traveling partner said, leaning in to peer at Cecil closer. Seeming to make up his mind after a pregnant moment, the man crouched in front of Cecil and began to explain, "Your name is Cecil Palmer. You're a college student backpacking through Europe. You're from a city in the United States, what was it called?" the man scratched at his scalp for a moment. "Ah, that's right. Night Vale. It's somewhere in the desert I believe."

 

"I see. That sounds about right," Cecil nodded. "How in the world did we end up here?" Cecil asked.

 

"We were staying in that hostel up on the hill," Cecil's traveling partner explained, gesturing with a nod over his shoulder. Cecil leaned to one side and looked around the man to get a look at the plywood shack holding itself precariously to the side of the hill. "But, it's a little slanted so we rolled out of bed and ended up rolling down the hill."

 

Cecil laughed, his voice deep and booming over the faint sound of straining amelodic music in the air. "We must have kept rolling down the hill over and over again to get in this state," Cecil laughed. "Why, I imagine we've been rolling down this hill and crawling back up for years. Years spinning into madness under the cold unmoving void barely lit by the ephemeral struggle of galaxies far beyond and forever out of the reach of our own..." Cecil trailed off, his eyes becoming far away. The wild looking man regarded the blond warily. "Haha!" Cecil broke out of his reverie "What a crazy night!"

 

"Well, traveling partner, we should get going! All of Europe waits before us and I believe that's been just about enough of rolling down hills," Cecil declared, slowly climbing to his feet.

 

Cecil's traveling partner stood too and took a few steps backward, eying Cecil as if he were a wild beast himself.

 

"I'm sorry to say that this will have to be where we part ways," the wild looking man said.

 

"Oh," Cecil said, his voice lilting low and disappointed. "I see. Well, there's no helping it. I'm sure it's been very nice traveling with you, though I can remember none of it," Cecil said soberly, offering his hand to the other man.

 

The traveling partner grasped Cecil's hand in his own and his claws tickled the back of Cecil's hand. The feeling was familiar, like a terrifying nightmare long forgotten trying to fight the bright light of day.

 

"Likewise, I'm sure," the man said.

 

The two smiled at each other, nude, beaten, and with feet bleeding where they stood on the trampled thorn bush beneath their feet. Above them the sky continued its haphazard rotation through unfamiliar constellations and swirling interminable colors. It was the middle of the night in Switz as it would always be the middle of the night in Switz. Terrifying off key notes filled the air the like of which those prone to hallucinations would never be able to withstand and fragrant blue flowers nodded lazily in the night breeze amongst blood stained thorns.

  
It was a trip Cecil would never forget and would inexplicably cherish for the rest of his immeasurable life.

**Author's Note:**

> Tl;dr? Cecil Baldwin from Albuquerque died in a bus crash in Switzerland. He then woke up in the country of Switz, met the boogeyman, was raped by the boogeyman and all his hideous tentacles, but somehow survived to basically become the Cecil we've come to love and know.
> 
> As an aside, I just sort of randomly decided that the country of Switz is probably supposed to be Switzerland since it sounds close. Therefore, I decided to use Swiss folklore to build my 'Mysterious Travelling Partner'. Thusly, he is Böögg, or the bogeyman. Shout out to my Swiss bros, yo.


End file.
